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Month

July 2012

By Ulysses. But I finished it. I wrote a short review at Goodreads and I could write more about each and every section, but I won’t. Instead I’ll make this a quick list.

Best parts:

The sea toward the beginning. It was sad, but I liked how it was done.

Various descriptions of the soap Bloom bought at the druggist. Weird, I know, but I felt like I could smell it.

The last chapters. The second to last was a giant Q&A with an omniscient character that broke down the actions of Bloom and in a very Bones-like way. Weirdly enough, it was probably the first chapter I could fully understand everything going on. The last chapter was a pain in the ass because it was basically one giant, 40+ page sentence, but it was finally from Molly’s perspective. I guess by that point I was fed up of Leopold’s opinions and the way he talked/thought about his wife.

Worst:

The absinthe induced chapter.

The parts that went on and on with no purpose. So a lot of it.

Quotes I tabbed but don’t remember why:

“Pleasant evenings we had then. Molly in Citron’s basketchair.Nice to hold, cool waxen fruit, hold in the hand,lift it to the nostrils and smell the perfume. Like that, heavy, sweet, wild perfume. Always the same, year after year.” – p.60

“Quick warm sunlight came running from Berkeley Road, swiftly, in slim sandals, along the brightening footpath. Runs, she runs to meet me, a girl with gold hair on the wind.” – p.61

“I have often thought since looking back over that strange time that it was that small act, trivial in itself, that striking of that match, that determined the whole aftercourse of both our lives.” – p.140

“There is, I feel in the words, some goad of the flesh driving him into a new passion, a darker shadow of the first, darkening even his own understanding of himself. A life fate awaits him and the two rages commingle in a whirlpool.” – p.196

I’ve spent hours looking over listings, comparing prices, neighborhoods and reviews, yet I still can’t imagine living in one of the many apartments I have on my list. It’s strange, for months I have known this time would come, but actually sitting here knowing one of these spaces will soon be called “home” is so strange.

I guess my apprehension is doubled by the fact that I’m in Los Angeles, a place I spent my whole life saying I would never live. It’s almost polar opposite of the other school I could have accepted.

There are things that make me excited to be moving here. I’ll have a plethora of Farmer’s markets to choose from. My intake of fine arts will be limitless. I’ll be closer to my dad. I’ll be back in Southern California. I could go to the beach every damn day if I want to. I will have access to multiple libraries. I could run in to various smokin’ hot celebrities on a daily basis.

Those are great things, but what about those sleepless nights when I feel so small, wide-eyed and waiting for the sirens to stop?